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Once A Woman Is Betrayed, She Has No Other Choice But To Move On

Once A Woman Is Betrayed, She Has No Other Choice But To Move On

Last night, I got a message from my ex. Of course, it was after midnight and I was already asleep when the message arrived.

He probably went out and got drunk, and his emotions got the best of him. He thought about what he once had and now lost. He thought about us.

He thought I would answer right away and jump at the chance to talk to him and give him the warmth he needed so many times in the past.

Drunk as he was, he imagined me running to his door and reassuring him with kind words, while I’d watch him reach for my hand as he pretended to care.

He expected honesty, care, and commitment from me after he humiliated me.

He was so confident that I’d leave my pride in my bed that I woke up in this morning – just to give him all my understanding.

He actually thought I’d beg him to tell me what’s wrong?! I bet it was hilarious for him, picturing me believing every lie he told me as a reason and story behind every drink he took.

I wonder if he ever mentioned me to any girl he went out with, while he knew I was waiting faithfully at home.

If he only knew how many times I closed my eyes to the truth – how many times his phone rang with an unknown number where I wished I could answer it.

Did coming clean ever cross his mind?

Did he know that he’d regret losing me as much as I regretted those nights that I turned a blind eye and made excuses for him?

Did he know that losing me would hurt him more than anything?

It’s such a shame that he wasn’t careful with my feelings. It’s a shame he didn’t keep me from harm.

It was his carelessness that gave him away. Not even my love could see past it.

I knew something wasn’t right. I knew his words were pure lies.

I could almost smell every one of his secrets. I could literally smell the perfume on his jacket that wasn’t mine.

I wish I can show him how worthless his message and his “I miss you” looks now.

He is not a part of me anymore and neither is that black lace dress that he loved so much on me. I’m wearing the yellow one now – the one I love on me.

It doesn’t matter what he likes anymore. It’s all about me now.

Once upon a time, he mattered the most, he was my number one, but he tossed it away. There’s no going back.

Now, as I’m looking at my phone and his late-night message, I’m wondering what he is – strong or desperate?

I’m eager to ask if he knows that his mens rea is late, just like his message.

I’m certain that, whatever the future holds, it will show him how powerful feeling guilt is. It makes you crawl, beg, and cry for the one whose love you didn’t know how to appreciate.

But, I’m a woman. I can get through anything – even when I’m in pain, even when I have a tired soul.

I know well what I’m made of. I know I can do better than him. I know I deserve more.

I deserve more than his lies, selfish acts, mysterious phone calls he got, confessions he never made, another woman’s perfume on his jacket, every secret he kept, the black lace dress, and late-night messages sent with a guilt-laced glass of wine. He can’t get the best of me.

So, I am strong enough to get up from my bed, type “It’s too late,” and move on with my life.